Everybody Talks
by Fuzzball457
Summary: NOT AU! No slash - When Reid becomes the new target of the latest UnSub, it's up to the team to work with the little information they have and find him in time
1. Prologue

**I'm back! I recently discovered that I was addicted to posting and reviews and simply couldn't stay away any longer (apologies to Little Miss Artist for not waiting to get the chap back!) So I broke my own rule of not posting until a story is done and posted this bad boy! I have chapter 1 done, but it won't be posted until later in the week (I think) No promises for updates on this one, but I'll do the best I can. I'm also going on vacation soon so my writing time will be limited. **

**A few of you, there are only two or three I think, know about another project I have going where a secret of Reid's is revealed by Morgan. This isn't that fic. I don't know when that'll be done or posted, but probalby not for a while. This one was a spur of the moment thing. This won't be too long, maybe eight chapters at most (assuming I don't get super carried away).**

**I realize the prologue is short, but I promise they'll get longer.**

**Disclaimer: No, I don't own them *goes off to bitterly weep***

**P.S. Apologies if any of you got the alert for this more than once, I was having some troubles with FF and ended up having to keep re-creating a story!**

**So without further ado, enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Smooth Criminal<br>Prologue**

_"Secrets are made to be found out with time"  
>~Charles Sanford<br>_

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><p><em>Few cars passed by at such a late hour and of those who did pass, not a single looked up at the clock tower. Even if someone were to look up, say a tired little girl hanging over a parent's shoulder or perhaps a lonely man returning from a failed night at the bar, they wouldn't be able to really recognize what they were seeing. The dark figure would simply look like a large bird or perhaps a recently installed security something or other. It simply wouldn't seem, perhaps because it's not a conclusion one would normally make, that the mysterious shape – so indistinguishable at such a level – was a form, a human, quite literally hanging between life and death. The stroke of the huge clock face behind the figure, striking away their minutes left to live. And when the big hand came down to strike 12:30, it would slice through the heavy wire holding the form suspended and the unfortunate person would fall roughly 300 feet and land 29 stories below on the unforgiving pavement. <em>

_It wouldn't be the first of such strange deaths. Just ten days ago the body of a popular politician was found dead in a trash compacter. And even that was not the first. It was the third, actually, and the unfortunate person tied to the clock tower would be the fourth. _

_The gently breeze, chilly and ferocious at such a height, felt like needles scraping over his pale skin and bumps flicked up on his arms. He shivered underneath the strong binds that held him to the chair, tipped slightly forward. Though grateful for his sweater vest, it simply wasn't enough. Even if the clock suddenly stopped and he never fell to his death, he would die of hypothermia. _

_Heights had never been a major fear for Spencer Reid. That's not to say they didn't scare him, they simply hadn't been a phobia. But now, hanging as he was – alone, in the dark with only his mind to keep him company – he was reconsidering. Would he know? As he was fallingl, that was. Would he even have enough time to form conscious thought? Or would he hear the clock tick down to his death and then simply feel himself fall for just a second and then never know any more? Or would he have time to recognize it was the end?_

_To be honest, he wasn't sure which was worse. Did he want to know he was just a second away from dying as the wind whistled by or would he simply like it to just end? After nearly an hour of being suspended from such a height, he couldn't help but think the latter would be better. _

_Reid took a moment to gather his thoughts and send out silent thoughts to his friends. If he would never get a chance to tell them, he had to believe they would somehow know. It was a desperate man's belief, sure, but was he not a desperate man? At this point, who wouldn't be? _

_More than once he had considered writing letters to go along with his will. After all, in their business, you never knew when it all might end. One day he had put his thoughts down on paper, then altered it when Elle left, and again when Gideon left. They weren't really done, he'd never gotten around to finishing them, and they weren't with his will. He had no guarantee they'd be found at all. He could only pray that whoever was sent to clean out his apartment, would find them amongst the many papers on his personal desk. He, of course, could recall every word with perfect clarity. He had admitted several things, but mostly voiced the feelings all knew, but never spoke of._

_There was his tender love of a sister in all but blood, and temporary crush, for JJ; the gratefulness he felt towards the unwavering, brotherly love shown to him, even when he felt undeserving, by kind, protective Morgan; the guidance and assistance of Hotch, who showed him mercy by keeping Reid's dark secret to himself; the constant, heart-warming kindness of Garcia, who brought light into their dark, dark lives; the silent support and wise advice of Rossi, a legend in the bureau; and last, but not least, Prentiss, whom Reid felt he owed the most. Even after his awful treatment of her, she never turned her back. It would have been easy to blame him and simply despise him for it, disrupting the entire flow of the team, but she'd stuck by him and even taken a beating for the very man who said that she 'didn't really know what she was talking about' when she called him out on his strange behavior. _

_He owed them all more than he could ever express in simple strokes of ink, perhaps more than he could ever express in any physical means. They were his team, his best-friends, his family. And he would die for any one of them. _

_So as he hung above the small, silent city, suspended above Death's mocking face, he sent out his good-byes. There was a special letter (as well as instructions) for his mother. He was worried how his death would affect her mental state. But perhaps there was a deeper, selfish part of him, which was worried that she wouldn't be "there" enough to understand. It would be better, he assured himself, to spare her the pain of her only son's death, but it still felt like steel rod rammed through his heart to think that she wouldn't recognize what Spencer Reid's death should do to her._

_The other thing weighing heavily on his mind was what his exposed secret was. In every one of the previous murders, an envelope had been sent to the victim's superior containing information exposing a secret of the victim's. Reid's greatest secret was drugs, but he'd never been officially caught, so he doubted the UnSub would have been able to find that. It was scarier not knowing, he decided. An envelope surely would have been sent to Hotch, but containing what? Even if it was drugs, Hotch already knew. So what big secret did he have? Surely there was a reason he was picked?_

_Reid had faith in the team, but he wasn't sure if they'd be able to figure out his message he tried to get to them. He hadn't had much time so he'd had to...abbreviate. _

_Craning his neck painfully, he turned to see that it was nearing 12: 25. Five minutes. Most would say it was a short amount of time. But so much could be accomplished in five minutes, even more so for Reid. He could have read a short book, or finished up paperwork. Somewhere in the vast world, a composer may have been putting the finishing touches on their latest masterpiece, or perhaps a writer was just typing the final words, perhaps condemning a character to a final death. And maybe somewhere five distraught BAU members searched helplessly for their missing colleague, knowing he wouldn't have more than five minutes left. And perhaps back in Quantico, a bubbly technical analysist was endlessly searching her computer, running the same searches she'd run hundreds of times before in the last two hours since he was first taken. _

_Who knows, perhaps they were all sending him their silent good-byes, wishing they would be able to write their final thoughts down so he could read them. Maybe JJ was crying and maybe Morgan was punching the nearest wall. Maybe Diana Reid was hundreds of miles away, yet still knew something was wrong in that way only a parent can._

_Do not think nothing happens in five minutes. In five minutes, a heart beats, lungs breath, eyes blink and thoughts fly. In five minutes, lives end and others begin. In five minutes another child could be stolen off the street and forced into a mysterious car or another human being rescued from their own personal hell._

_Five minutes is all it takes for everything to change._

_The clock struck 12:26._

TBC...

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><p><strong>So there's the start. Interested at all? This is actually going to focus on the actual crime aspect for a while before being Reid hc and angst, just so you know.**

**As I mentioned, I'm addicted to reviews, so do me a favor and REVIEW! I beg of you! Nothing gets me going more than reviews! Also, this doesn't apply as much for this chapter since you don't really know what's going on, but later on if you have any suggestions, feel free to let me know!**


	2. Chapter 1

**First off, I got my comp sorted out so there should be no more multiple alerts or any of that. **

**I tried to reply to everyone's review, if I missed you, I'm so sorry and know that I am so grateful for your wonderful words. As I mentioned in a few review replies, I didn't plan on posting until tomorrow, but I ended up finishing tonight and thought what the heck, those great readers deserve an update! So here we go! It's not exactly an action packed chapter though...**

**I'm not very good at the profiling part, so pardon any mistakes on that front. If you see an continuance errors (I kept changing this because I was still making my criminal at the time) please let me know!**

**Unbeta'd - all mistakes are my own. **

**Enjoy. **

**Oh and a CHALLENGE! See if you can spot the Stephen King (which I don't own either) refernce in there - it's pretty big. Oh and just so you know - the city's made up as far as I know.**

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><p><strong>Smooth Criminal<br>Chapter 1  
><strong>**  
><strong>_"Secrets are made to be found out with time"  
>~Charles Sanford<br>_

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><p>Reid's nimble fingers flicked over the case folder he was holding on his lap. So gruesome, this one. Three vicious, vicious murders. Three good citizens exposed and killed, a police officer, a young woman just starting out, and a politician.<p>

Norma Wilkes, a police officer in her early forties, was tied under the dock and drowned by early morning as the tide rose over night. The Chief of Police had received an envelope containing photos pertaining to an affair between Wilkes, who was married and a co-worker. A call had been placed to Wilkes, which was successfully received. But when a young boy slipped on the rocks and slid down below the dock the next morning, he got the shock of his life, finding her dead body tied there.

A bad and unsual murder, true, but not yet suspected to be that of a serial killer. Criminals were always swearing vendettas against those who arrested them.

But exactly twenty days later, another body was found, this time killed in an incredibly gruesome manner. Eliza Whitmore was a twenty-seven year old female news reporter, just recently promoted. But then one afternoon a mysterious envelope found its way to Whitmore's boss. Soft insurance fraud when she was twenty-five. Whitmore was called in to the office, being told over the phone that an _issue_ had recently come to her boss's attention, but she never showed.

The next morning, John Kerin, an employee at Whitmore's insurance company, unknowingly dragged the girl, chained to the back of his truck, nearly six miles down the road at roughly forty miles an hour towards the city boundary. There was a piece of cotton wrapped tightly around her mouth and her hands were chained behind her back, feet attached to the truck. By the time he'd spotted something odd in his rear-view mirror, she was long dead.

Suffice to say, the photos weren't pretty. Gruesome, that it was, but it still wasn't connected to the other case because the situations were so different.

Victim number three, a well-liked politician, Greg Stillson, who at the time was running for re-election, came fifteen days later. It was then that the BAU was called in.

It was a similar story, early afternoon, Stillson's competitor running for re-election as mayor, received an envelope with documents revealing a large money transaction from the city funds to Stillson's personal account. Stillson's agent desperately called him – a call which was once again received – but Stillson never showed up to met him. By the next morning, his mangled remains were found in a trash compacter.

It was the cases like these that made Reid think twice about his occupation.

"Any traces of drugs in their systems?"

"None and no head injuries like that of being knocked unconscious, either," JJ read off from the report.

"So, how he's getting these people?" Prentiss asked, looking around at the others for ideas, a slight frown on her pale face.

"It could have been some sort of blitz attack – he pulls up in a van and grabs them or something," Morgan offered.

"Either that or he somehow got them to come to him, maybe pretending to be lost," Hotch offered.

"He'd need to be strong, not only to kidnap them in such a manner, but to restrain them like he does. Holding a struggling woman underwater and tying her up wouldn't be easy," added Rossi.

"What about victimology? He's all over the place."

"It might not be as much about the victim's themselves, as it is about the information - exposing them. There was an envelope for all of them, right?"

"Yes," JJ confirmed, "envelopes were sent to their superiors, or competition, with humiliating, and in some cases, incriminating, information. All three victims were successfully contacted, but they never actually showed up."

"The police officer, Wilkes, lived less than ten minutes away from the police station. That's not a very big time frame," Prentiss said.

"So he was either already at the house, or already in position somewhere along her route."

"Being on the route would be difficult. Harville's a fairly big city, there's no guarantee which road she'd take and, like Prentiss said, he's got a very small time frame and really only has one chance," Rossi countered.

"And besides, the second victim," Reid said, speaking up for the first time, "didn't own a car - they would have taken a taxi - so the UnSub would have had to attack the driver and her on a busy road."

"So maybe he attacks her in her home or right outside of her home," Morgan suggested.

"None of the victim's apartments showed any sign of breaking or entering. Besides," Reid added as he flipped the page, "most of the calls were placed between 5 and 6 pm, when most people would be getting home. It would be far too likely for an UnSub to be seen attacking them in the apartment building."

"So outside the house?"

"Wouldn't work either," Reid said. "5 to 6 is rush hour and all of their apartments are near busy streets, the UnSub would never be able to blitz them like that, even if they did ask for help and the victim came willingly."

"Well how did he take them then?" To Reid, that only left one option. If he didn't get them before they left the house, didn't get them outside the house or on their way, and they never arrived, then he couldn't have taken them at all. Somehow the victims went to him at some other place willingly. Did they all know him or did he threaten them after they were contacted by their superiors? Reid was going to suggest his theory that they went to him willingly somewhere else, but decided for now, to keep it to himself. It didn't make much sense yet and he didn't want to waste time potentially throwing them way off base. He'd bring it up later if it seemed more plausible.

"We'll work on that later," Hotch said, recognizing that the discussion was going nowhere. "They weren't kidnapped for long, the coroner thinks it was probably only an hour or so before he left them to die based on how long the woman was in the water and her estimated time of abduction. We need to focus on why he chose the victims and his own background."

"Somehow he found out confidential information on all these people." Reid's eyes darted up, but no one noticed his jumpy reaction. A creepo literally waiting for someone to commit wrong so he could punish them for it? Now where had he heard that before? _We're all sinners,_ Tobias's voice floated around his head.

"Reid?"

"What?" he said, his eyes coming back into focus to find Morgan looking at him with a raised eyebrow. "Sorry, zoned out."

"Yeah, I see that," Morgan chuckled. "Don't suppose you had a brilliant revelation of how this guy is getting his information?"

"Well, really, there can only be three ways: he found it out personally, from an informant, or through some sort of technological program," Reid said.

"It'd be too hard to do it personally," Emily countered. "It's take too long and be too unlikely of just stumbling upon all these secrets. And, anyway, even if he did get to know these people, it's not like you'd just tell some random guy you're having an affair. There are far too many coincidences that have to play out for him to do it that way."

"You'd probably have the same problem with an informant. Whether it's him or someone else, whoever they are is getting their information through technology, probably some hacking program, a trojan horse maybe." Reid refrained from pointing out the error with that idea. To hack someone, you had to know who you were hacking. He'd already have to know who had secrets before choosing to hack them.

"What about motives?" Hotch said, directing the conversation onto the next topic.

"The murders are pretty gruesome, but lack any sadistic or sexual backing."

"Based on the low amount of physical involvement he had in the actual murders," Reid added, "it's unlikely he has any rage disorders or the need for power or control. This is purely for the purpose of removing people not for power or enjoyment in the actual murder."

"Maybe he's a visionary, supposedly acting under God's orders, or maybe he's mission oriented and feels he's doing society a favor," Morgan added.

"Actually," Reid said, quick to careen the subject away from visionaries. That would just be too damn similar. "it's unlikely our UnSub is either. Visionaries and mission oriented killers both believe they're doing the right thing and have no need for remorse. In both cases, the UnSub would be much more deliberate in the actual killing, for example stabbing them, because they don't think they're justified. These kills a much more indirect and besides, they seem to be done more out of frustration or maybe a need for revenge, a type of if-I-can't-have-it-no-one-can situation."

"So you mean, something similar probably happened to him – the being exposed part, not the murder – and his life was "ruined" so now he's exacting revenge on people who "got away with it", if you will."

"Exactly," Reid said, really starting to feel in his element, "he's correcting the injustice of other people getting away with it, but he probably realizes how humiliating it is and spares them that pain by killing them."

"He might also be trying to defend himself by proving that everyone has secrets so for him to be punished for it is…" Prentiss gestured her hand as she tried to come up with the right word.

"Maybe he was in the military and was dishonorably discharged or a politician, or something similar, who had a past secret exposed," Morgan said.

"Do you notice how all the deaths are completely reliant on other factors?" Reid asked, voicing the one thing that bothered him most. "Like the second girl – it's entirely possible that the man might not have driven to work the next day, and even still he might have noticed her before it got to the point of killing her. Or the police officer – the tide varies as much as six inches between days - that could be the difference between life and death, assuming the cold didn't kill her."

"He might take it as verification that this is what he's supposed to do, like it's destiny or something of the sort."

"We'll be landing soon," Hotch said, effectively ending the discussion. "Once we land, Reid, start working on the geographic profile. JJ, contact the families and ask about setting up an interview tomorrow as it's already fairly late. Morgan, you and Prentiss start on victimology – any similarities, friends whom they might have told things, churches where they might have confessed, anything. Rossi, you'll come with me to look at the latest crime scene. I doubt there'll be much, but for now it's the best we've got. Oh and, JJ, call Garcia and ask her to check the victim's computers for anything that the UnSub might have hacked into and get his information."

Everyone nodded their agreement as the plane began to descend. Reid frowned slightly. He couldn't help but feel they had a terribly incomplete profile. Everything was a maybe this or a maybe that. Nothing was concrete and that frustrated the young genius. You couldn't build a profile with maybes. And you couldn't solve a case without a profile.

TBC...

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading and please review!<strong>


	3. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! Sorry for taking so long, but do know that I was on vacation until last Friday so I wasn't just being lazy! I've been trying hard to reply to reviews but since I was gone on vacation shortly after posting last time, it's likely I missed a few. Just wanted to say THANK YOU so much for the wonderful reviews and please keep 'em coming! They inspire me to write!**

**I don't know why I stuck this chapter in, it wasn't planned and before I sat down to write this bit I had no intention of even including an interview let alone a whole chapter of one, but Kendra demanded my attention and she was fun to write. The next chapter will get back to the team and be the start of the Reid whumpage!**

**Unbeta'd because I really wanted to post tonight. All mistakes are my own and I don't own Criminal Minds.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

It felt like claws scraping at his chest, tearing open veins and muscle alike. The feeling was so real that he absently brought a hand up to rub across his chest to make sure there wasn't blood. She was pretty but he didn't like her because of that. He didn't like _like_ her either. But he felt an extreme wave of protectiveness, almost like that for a younger sibling, that it was a physical hurt to watch her in such pain.

Her hair was dirty blonde with several sleepless night's worth of tangles in it. There was no attempt at makeup though the shadows under her eyes were dark enough to be eye shadow. She was wearing a baggy purple sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. Her crumpled form was bent over the table, her arms curled under her head, her mouth open in a silent scream too hard to express. The light glinted off of the fresh tears and old tear tracks on her face. Her shoulders were heaving so violently that it was rocking the entire table.

Kendra Whitmore.

Sister of victim #2. Called in for interview.

Reid had managed to get her about fifteen minutes through before she broke. She didn't break down, like into a weepy mess, she _broke. _As a person, as a spirit, as a sister. There was nothing left. It wouldn't be possible for her to break more if it was her who was murdered. Reid had never seen such a sibling bond, one so strong it was practically tangible.

Richard Tann, Eliza Whitmore's boss, was next door being interviewed by Morgan. JJ, Prentiss, Hotch and Rossi was out interviewing relations and bosses for the other victims. Kendra had made it very clear she didn't want to be interviewed in her home, which her sister had shared, that she desperately wanted and needed to get out of the house. Whitmore's boss, who had met Kendra before, offered to come in for one as well so she could drive Kendra ("That poor girl is in not state to be going anywhere!") so Morgan and Reid had stayed behind to talk to them.

Reid wondered if anyone else had a broken human being on their hands.

Reid could remember, all too well, the pain of when he first thought Emily was dead. When he first felt the knife slice through him and thought, this is it, there is no possible way the world will keep turning. But then it had. And so slowly the knife had been taken out a bit more each day.

Until it was revealed to all be a lie and the knife was promptly rammed back in, perhaps deeper than before. Because the first time, that was _loss. _And there was a _murderer_ to blame. But here? This was his _friends_ whom he trusted with his life. And they stood by and watched him suffer and kept their silence. It was not only a betrayal of trust, but of his ability to confide in them. It was as if they he had been stabbed and they just stood by. _It's safer for the team if we let you die_, they would say. And yes, Reid had forgiven, but that was not forgetting. It was there, always there, and whenever he so much as came close to telling someone something deep, he'd back up. Because telling people things was just giving them weapons to hurt you with, the sharpest weapons there were.

But the point was he knew. He knew the hurt. And Prentiss was only his friend, he couldn't imagine losing a sibling. Perhaps that was the blessing of being an only child.

A huge, rattling intake of breath brought Reid from his thoughts. The poor girl was actually starting to get blue around the lips because she was crying so hard she couldn't breathe. Deciding he'd been awkwardly sitting there long enough, Reid leaned closer and grasped each of her hands in his.

"Kendra," he said in calm, soothing voice. Through her fringe he could see her eyes drift up to meet his. "I need you to listen to me." Once he was confident she was listening even though her chest and shoulders were still hitching with suppressed sobs, he continued. "Would you like me to get you a mild sedative and try to continue the interview, or would you like to go home and come back to complete the interview sometime tomorrow?"

Her mouth began opening and closing rapidly and she shook her head a bit. He stared at her in confusion. "Just shake your head yes or no: would you like me to get you a mild sedative?" She looked unsure for a moment, her wild eyes seeming to freeze on a spot on the table. Eventually her head dipped quickly down then back up and Reid started nodding as well.

"Yes? Okay, I'll be right back." He went to stand up when her bony, claw like hand wrapped around her wrist. It was skeletal but strong, almost inhumanly so.

"My sister," she choked out, sounding as though she hadn't spoken and years and had spent the last month eating nothing but rocks. "was not a bad person," she said slowly, putting emphasis on each word individually. Reid wondered how many people had said otherwise. "People," she spit the word out as though it was vile upon her tongue, "commit soft fraud all the time. Her car was _stolen_ and she placed the value a little higher than it really was. So what if she got an extra thousand or two dollars from the government, her car was _stolen. _That does not make her a bad person." Her breaths were shaky and short with her chest rising spasmodically between words.

"Kendra, no one here is accusing your sister of being a bad person, we're just trying to figure out who did this," Reid said.

"Everyone acts like _she's _the murderer not that evil man who did this to her. Our father, Howard, called me and said he didn't want to go to the funereal because he was _ashamed_ of his daughter." Here all trace of sadness left her replaced only with anger, though she still trembled.

Reid now understood the depth of her emotion. Not only was she suffering the grief and guilt that comes with any death, but betrayal, insult on her and her sister's behalf, anger, and the complete loss of faith in society as a whole. And maybe, Reid thought, there was a tiny tiny part of her that was mad at her sister for doing it in the first place. Just as there was a tiny tiny part of Reid that hated JJ and Hotch every time he looked at them.

The world was a cruel place and the only way to survive through it was to build walls – solid things in life: family, friends, a general belief that there is always hope for better, and that there are good people in this world. Not one, not two, not even three, but all four walls had been shaken and then the roof had caved in on the tortured woman of twenty-five before him.

Interviewing witnesses was perhaps Reid's least favorite part for exactly that reason – it humanized things too much. It was one thing to look at a body and see a victim, but it was another to look at a body and see a human; to see, to hear, to _feel_ the pain they left behind for their loved ones. It makes things too real and that's when it became hard, sometimes _too_ hard, to do their job. Reid had found, long ago, that the only way to sleep at night and to get up the next day, is to focus on those you _did_ save, think of the murders you _did _prevent, and to keep work and every day parallel in your head – always aware of the other but never crossing into each other.

Having apparently exhausted her last reserves, Kendra let her hand drop onto the table and her eyes glaze over. "Be right back," Reid said, trying not to betray any emotion. He exited quickly and shut the door behind him, taking a moment to lean against it and take a breath.

"Hard one?" Morgan asked somewhere to his left. Reid's eyes flicked open and turned to his friend.

"You could say that," he said after a moment's pause. "How's the boss going?"

"Not much, nothing we didn't already know that is. He said that the girl sounded shaky and staticy on the phone-"

"Static-y?"

"She was on a cell, it was the only phone she had. Apparently the letter was hand delivered to the boss's secretary and the man asked her to give it to the boss. Got no description on the man other than 'kinda tallish' according to the secretary," Morgan said with an eye roll. "We're good, but we're not wizards. 'Kinda tallish' doesn't help." Reid swallowed thickly and nodded. He only wished his interviewee was that easy. "So you done with the sister?"

"Oh!" Reid said as he realized that he had actually come out her with the pretense of doing something besides escaping the confining room. "Right! I need to get her a Valium then I'm going to try to continue." Morgan grimaced.

"That bad, huh?" Reid gave a faint shrug. For some reason he felt bad speaking ill of the girl. Morgan gave him a pat on the shoulder before heading off to the conference room that had become their main headquarters.

Valium in a little plastic cup in one hand and a bottle of water in the other, Reid entered back into the room. He placed the items before her and she nodded appreciation before swallowing the pill. After a few moments, she sighed, problems going out with the exhaled air.

"I-I'm sorry, I have no idea what you must think of me, and I probably look a terrible mess," she said sounding only slightly more emotional than perfectly calm. The emotion was still there, but the volume had been turned down from ten to two.

"It's perfectly alright, Ms. Whitmore."

"Kendra. Ms. Whitmore was my mother…and she's dead," she said matter-of-factly.

"Alright then…let's start where we left off," Reid said trying to bring some form of professionalism back to the scene. "Is there anyone your sister would trust enough to tell this? Think back, they might have left since, this could have happened anytime between two years ago and a month ago." Previously the question received a shaky 'she trusted _me!'_ then the water works had started and that was that. But now Reid hoped she was calm enough to think of people _besides_ herself whom her sister might have told.

"She trusted me," she repeated, her voice only shaking a little. For a moment, Reid was afraid the whole thing would start all over and he'd end up having to send the poor girl home. "And _I_ didn't even know. I don't know who else she would have told. She had a fiancée, he might have known…"

"And they didn't end up getting married?" A flare of hope sparked up in her. Vengeful fiancée was certainly a likely candidate.

"No, he died." _Geesh,_ Reid thought for one insensitive moment, _did everyone in this family die?_

"Oh." For all his hundred and eighty-seven IQ points, oh was the best he could do at the moment.

"Okay then, let me ask you this: Do you think your sister _would have _told anyone?"

"No. I was her closest confidant. Either she didn't think it was of enough importance or she was too ashamed, but either way, she wouldn't have told anyone," Kendra said passionately, practically pleading for him to understand.

"Okay. Did your sister go out a lot? Any particular places she frequented?"

"Not really, Liz liked to stay home and read, said her job took her around enough. Look, Agent-"

"Reid. Dr. Reid." He refrained from reminding her that he had introduced himself at the beginning. Clearly she hadn't been paying attention. She gave him that same dubious look everyone gave him when they found out he had doctorates. _Someone that young?_

"Look…Dr. Reid, whoever killed all these people, my sister didn't know him." She sounded sure and even though profilers weren't supposed to take the word of interviewees on their beliefs on the killer (couldn't get more bias if you tried) he couldn't help but believe her.

"Okay. Thank you, Kendra. I think I have all we need for now," he said thinking back to the questions he'd managed to get in before she broke down. "but give me a call if you think of anything." She nodded and accepted his business card from his outstretched hand.

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><p><strong>There you go! Next chap should be up by Friday - fingers crossed! Like I said, reviews feed my muse so please please REVIEW! They all mean so much to me!<strong>


	4. Chapter 3

**Hey guys! Sorry for taking sooo long, but I did just get back from vacation and have been swamped with school work to make up. But now I'm almost caught back up, so the next post shouldn't be too long in the making, though the next one wouldn't be nearly this long b/c it was originally supposed to be part of this. But I figured you'd want an update. This one isn't very action-y, but that's guaranteed in the next chap. **

**Now about reviews, I won't EVER hold the next chapter hostage for reviews, but guys, _please,_ the first chap had ten reviews and the last one had 3. I'm worried that people are no longer interested. So having said that, thank you so much for those who did review (sorry if I didn't reply to yours, like I said, I've been a busy busy bee!) and please REVIEW!**

**Oh, and yes, this is the story formerly known as Smooth Criminal, but I didn't really like that title so I changed it. **

**Enjoy!**

Reid sat at the large table in the hotel restaurant. He was on the end of the circular booth, across from Prentiss and next to Morgan. He stared as his spaghetti. It was boring and bland. As was he.

It was surprising, Reid thought as he looked around as his coworkers bantering lightly as they talked about past cases, how easy it was for them to relax. You'd think a group of people who saw the worst of the worst would be…different…paranoid, jumpy, all that great stuff. Or if nothing else just always serious. But not them. It was the day after Reid's interview with Kendra and they had decided to go out and eat as opposed to just ordering take out, as per usual on a case, since they were at a solid dead end. It was like trying to solve a puzzle only to realize you're missing 25% of the pieces. The answer was almost within sight, like a thought hovering in the back of your mind just out of consciousness.

But somehow they were enjoying themselves. JJ, Prentiss, and Morgan were now happily exchanging good-hearted jibes at each other's past mistakes while Rossi and Hotch tried not to smile. Reid was neither joining in nor smiling. He wasn't even enjoying himself. But that wasn't new. He felt like an outsider, like an alien sent in to observe. Reid would never fit in, no matter how hard they tried to pretend he did. He fit in no more with his friends than he did in, say, a strip club. He was out of place even in the one place he felt he belonged. Don't be mistaken, Reid loved his friends and wouldn't change them for the world, but sometime he just felt so foreign, like maybe he wasn't even human.

And so it was with great relief that Reid excused himself when he felt his phone go off.

"Dr. Reid speaking," he said formally, hoping the person on the other end couldn't hear the loud music in the background. It was probably some university calling. If it wasn't someone on the team, which was rarely ever, than it was usually some university calling him asking him to speak about this or that. Sometimes it was about his mother, but Reid liked to pretend those calls didn't happen.

"Um, hi, Dr. Reid," the voice was feminine and nervous, young sounding. He couldn't place it.

"Yes?" he asked, trying to keep his own nervousness, or rather his confusion, out of his voice.

"It-it's me, Kendra. Kendra Whitmore." Reid perked up immediately. Could be the thing they were missing? The break in the case they so desperately needed? He was now really hoping she couldn't hear the music. What would she think of the BAU if she heard the music and thought he was at a club or something similar?

"Oh, Ms. Whitmore, it's great to-"

"Kendra."

"R-right, Kendra," Reid said trying to get his sentence back on track after losing his train of thought. "It's a pleasure to hear from you, I assume you have something about the c-your sister's murder to tell me?" Reid only barely stopped himself from saying the case. He'd learned long ago that when it was personal, it wasn't just a case anymore. And families of victims were no different. To them this wasn't just a case on the news; this was real life, in all of its miserable glory.

"I just remembered something. I don't know if it's important or not, it's probably nothing, but you said to call if there was anything so I-" she spoke very fast, like a guilty child trying to explain why their hand was in the cookie jar.

"You did the right thing, Kendra, the tiniest detail could be the answer to the whole ca-murder. So what is it?"

"About a month after Eliza's car was stolen…she was in a bookstore, her favorite - she went there almost every other day during her lunch break – and apparently there they found several big-price items missing, which they suspected were stolen during the time frame she was there. So she was called in, with six other people, not that she knew there were others, as a suspect. She thought they had caught her about the fraud so she admitted to it.

Anyway, they eventually figured out it was some guy who stole the stuff, but a report was still filed on the fraud and she was fined."

"Was this public knowledge?" If it had been in the paper, that would totally blow any leads they thought they had. After all, anyone could read the paper.

"No, it wasn't in the paper or anything because the big deal at that time was the stolen stuff from the book store. Besides, she was only an intern at the news place at that point." That was good. That was very good. The UnSub was someone who would have access to those reports. That narrowed it down significantly.

"Thank you, Kendra, that's very important for our profile. Once again, give me a call if you think of anything else."

"Oh, and Dr. Reid?" She said, her tone turning slightly icy. "You can just call it a case. I know that's all it is to you people." She hung up, leaving Reid with a sick feeling in his stomach.

He wanted to argue back that it had to be only a case. Because if it was anything more, they wouldn't be able to do their job. If they took every case personally, they would all go mad. They had a difficult job, one that people seemed to never understand. Families always expected them to be sympathetic and take things personally while the cold-hearted cops on TV were disliked and portrayed as bad. Yet at the same time, police officers, investigators and profilers all over the world were being scolded for taking things to personally. They weren't made of steel, things still got to them, but they couldn't let it get to them too deeply or they'd…break. It was like doctors. No one wanted to think they were just another patient but no doctor would be able to care personally for every patient, because not only was it hard to see so many people sick and dying, but there just wasn't enough empathy in one person to give without it destroying them along the way.

But of course, people who took normal jobs didn't understand that.

Slowly, he brought his phone down and closed it, sliding it into his pocket just after. Turning, he zeroed in on his table where his absence clearly hadn't put a dent on the conversation, or the mood for that matter.

"Everything okay?" Morgan asked as Reid slid back into the circular booth.

"What?" Reid said, coming out of his own little zone.

"What was the call about?" Hotch asked, looking half curious and half worried.

"Oh!" Reid said, remembering there had been more to Kendra's call than to make him feel angry and alone. "Right! That was Ke-the girl I interviewed yesterday. She said she remembered something and I think it could be a big factor in our profile."

That got everyone's attention and soon they were busy bouncing suggestions around.

"He could have been there in person or just had access to the report, maybe saw it by accident."

"So probably a police officer from the area," Morgan said, glad to be making some kind of progress.

"Or simply someone skilled enough to hack into the database," Rossi posed.

"Not necessarily," Reid said, "think about it-"

"I hate it when he starts a sentence with think about it," Morgan interjected.

"Think about it," Reid said loudly over Morgan, "if he was hacking into the database – why? You don't just hack into a database and see what you can find. He'd have to already have a reason. So either he's not a hacker, he already knew, or he was looking for something else."

"But this wasn't the first murder," Prentiss countered. "He could have specifically been searching for crimes in the area that fit his specifics."

"The first murder was for an affair right?" JJ asked.

"Right," Reid confirmed, the file appearing in his mind.

"Which wouldn't have been filed because that's not a technical crime. So maybe he found out about that coincidentally, like accidentally and-"

"Then once he killed once he decided to look for more!" Morgan added eagerly. Reid frowned.

"So we still don't know if he's a hacker or a police officer," he said disappointedly. Did every break in the case _have_ to lead them to two paths?

"Or the fact that there was a police report could be a mere coincidence," Rossi added, trying to keep all doors open. Make that three paths.

Reid suddenly frowned again, trying to figure out the entanglement of ideas in his head.

"You keep frowning, Pretty Boy, and your face is gonna get stuck like that," Morgan smirked.

"That's scientifically impossible, Morgan. Something much worse, such as complete facial muscle spasms, would have to happen for your face to get stuck in one position," Reid fired back with missing a beat. "But I was thinking," he went on, completely ignoring or oblivious to Morgan's mouth opening and closing like a fish. "The last victim, Greg Stillson, the politician, he was stealing money from the city funding for his personal account, right? Well I don't know how there would be a report on that without there being a big scandal, but I was thinking if he has some type of file with the police it would add more evidence to the police or hacker theory as opposed to just a coincidence. Because if he found victim number two by searching the database, it's likely he ran the same search again to find victim number three." It took a moment for them to seem to grasp what he was saying and, not for the first time, Reid wondered if he was speaking another language. Or maybe it was that he spoke too fast when he got excited…"So," he said, deciding to sum it up just for clarification, "If Stillson has some type of file with the police, any at all, that would put more weight on the idea that the UnSub is either a hacker or a police offer. If he doesn't have a file, then we can say the fact that Whitmore does is just a mere coincidence."

"Well that's one question we _can _answer," Hotch said as he pulled out his cell phone. He dialed and pressed it to his ear.

He looked dismayed for a second before saying, "Garcia." God only knows what type of greeting the stoic Hotch was given. Morgan gave a small snicker but turned it into a cough when Hotch looked at him. He put her on speakerphone and set the phone in the middle of the table.

"Garcia, I need several things checked, are you ready?"

"Am I ever not?"

"Too true, Baby girl, too true," Morgan couldn't help but add.

"Right," Hotch said, ignoring Morgan, "first I need you to confirm there was a report filed roughly two years ago for a case of fraud committed by Eliza Whitmore." The sound of typing could clearly be heard over the phone, successfully filling the strange silence.

"Correct indeed. Exactly twenty-two months ago, Eliza Whitmore was charged with misdemeanor for soft fraud and was fined. What's next?"

Hotch looked over to Reid, offering him the floor since it was his idea.

"Garcia, can you check if there are any files on Greg Stillson? Particularly involving money?"

"I sure can, my Junior G-Man." While the sounds of typing filled the air once more, Reid blushed at the nickname. "Alright, about a two years and a half years ago, he was fired as school principal on the other side of the state for using school funds for personal use, but there's nothing about his recent stealing – oh! Wait! It's not exactly filed but it wouldn't be hard to figure out, there's a clear drop in amount in the annual public funds just as there's a large raise in his personal bank account. Uh, t-that's not really _in_ the database but it'd only take basic hacking skills to access it."

"We'll pretend we didn't hear that, Gracia," Hotch said, traces of a smile licking the corners of his lips.

"Thanks, Garcia," Reid said as he started again, "Can you cross employees who worked both cases or were at least employed during the Whitmore and Stillson cases?"

"Sure can…ah, sorry, doves, but no cigar. There was significant change in staff between the two, a lot of the guys who'd worked there all their life finally retired. Most of the newbie's have since moved. Despite all this late stuff, there really isn't much crime here, last murder was nearly forty years ago, it's not exactly a very interesting place to be a cop."

"So he's not a cop," Prentiss said, summing up what they were all thinking. Reid frowned. He was so sure the UnSub was a cop! But if there were no employees who worked there during both cases…

"Which makes him a computer hacker."

"But how would he know what to check?" Reid asked, trying once again to straighten out the mess in his head. "If he was police he could just run a search, but as a hacker, he'd have to get into to a specific file meaning-"

"He would have already had to know who he was after," Morgan agreed while nodding.

"Garcia, can you check credit history, relations, anything that can tie these two together? It has to be more than coincidence that two out of three have a record, so it's very likely that's how he got his information and the first was mere coincidence that got the ball rolling. It's possible he overheard something in a restaurant or something and decided to pursue further and maybe he's a friend of a friend for both. Somehow he knew who to go after."

"Alright, my darlings, I'll get back to you as soon as I have anything. Sleep tight and don't let the bed bugs bite!" She said before hanging up to get to work.

"Okay," Hotch said as he looked around at the many furrowed eyebrows and confused and thoughtful expressions around him, "let's call it a night. Met in the lobby tomorrow at eight. We'll regroup and straighten out what we know and what we need to know." Everyone nodded their agreement.

**Stick with me, there is action to come! BTW, sorry if some of the stuff was confusing, my thoughts don't always translate well so I tried to have Reid sum it up. Please REVIEW!**


	5. Chapter 4

**Hey guys! This chapter is shorter than usual, but I just couldn't resist stopping it where it was. This chapter has the promised action, but not until closer to the end. I know the other stuff doesn't seem very important, but there are a few different clues in there you may or may not notice. **

**As for reviews, thank you guys so much for the reviews! They mean so much to me. I tried really hard to reply to all of them, but if I missed yours (it's easy to loose track of which ones I've replied to and which I haven't) or if it was anonymous, then know I'm super grateful!**

The buildings passed in a slow blur as the rain drizzled down the window. Reid's brown eyes were only focused on the red light, but the rest of his mind wandered.

It was late, a few hours after dinner had been finished. Reid was in desperate need of a book and a small bookshop he'd seen on the way in the first night just outside the city borders had caught his eye. So after running it by Hotch, Reid had taken one of the bureau SUVs and headed out to get some new books. It wasn't far, but there were several traffic lights and he seemed to hit almost every one, though there wasn't much actual traffic.

The light flicked green and Reid drove for a few more minutes before pulling into the parking lot. It wasn't a very big place, but Reid had no doubt he'd be able to find something.

The interior walls were a light maroon with dark bookshelves all along the walls and a few lower ones forming six or seven aisles. To the immediate right of door was a small counter with a magazine rack. Behind it stood a young female with her brown hair in a ponytail, wearing a black t-shirt with Barnaby Books printed in red on it. Her eyes flicked up when Reid entered but almost immediately went back to a medium sized book open on the counter.

Reid debated for a minute whether to get something informational or something fictional. Finally he decided that while on a case, it was better to read fiction that didn't demand attention instead of something informational that would likely take up a large part of his focus with all the new facts. He picked an aisle at random and walked about half way down. In less than a minute, he'd gone over the titles and picked a book.

"Is this all?" the girl asked as she scanned _A Tale of Two Cities_.

"Yes."

"Twelve dollars." After paying cash and grabbing his book – he passed on the bag – he headed back out into the crisp evening air. A faint breeze blew around his scarf and his hair while he read the first few pages as he walked across the parking lot.

A young man seemed to come out of nowhere and the next thing Reid knew, he was stumbling backwards as his book landed on the asphalt.

"Oh, sorry, man!" The kid, Reid realized that was what he was, a kid, said. He had long brown hair, not unlike Reid's except the kid's was straighter. His frame, which Reid suspected to be skinny, was hidden under a baggy grey sweatshirt and jeans.

"That's fine, don't worry about it," Reid said as he bent down to gather up his book. Thankfully it'd suffered no real damage besides a slight bend in the first page. Reid straightened up and was about to go on his way when a thin hand on his chest stopped him. The kid was looking at his own hand, in the middle of Reid's chest, looking surprised himself.

"Um, can I help you?" Alarm bells began to ring faintly in Reid's head. Something wasn't right.

"You read that one before?" he said, gesturing towards _A Tale of Two Cities._ Reid suppressed the urge to correct the kid's grammar. His suspicion had gone down, but he wasn't entirely convinced.

"Yes, six times."

"Six?" he repeateded hesitantly. "That's…an exact number. Do you like it?" His light blue eyes seemed to jump all over the parking lot, returning several times to Reid. _He's waiting for something…_The kid's middle finger tapped quickly against his thigh, a seemingly subconscious action. _Nervous. He's nervous, buy why? _Was he waiting for someone and trying to pass the time? If so, this clearly wasn't a pleasant meeting to come.

"Um, yes, very much so," Reid said, feeling more and more awkward. Besides the fact he was still suspicious of this kid, he also wasn't exactly great with small talk. Mind you, if the topic stayed on books, Reid would have no trouble at all filling the space.

"Oh yeah? Well…what's your favorite part?" The kid sounded earnest, but Reid was still hesitant. There was something in his voice, like he was thinking through what he was saying before saying it, meaning this wasn't a natural conversation for him. It was forced, somehow. Despite his suspicion, Red couldn't stop himself from answering such a question, especially about such an interesting book.

"Well I don't have a favorite part so much. I think the entire thing poses an interesting view on resurrection. By delivering himself to the guillotine, Carton ascends to the plane of heroism, becoming a Christ-like figure. By sacrificing himself, his own life gains meaning and value and the final pages suggest that, like Christ, Carton will be resurrected. That suggests the notion that sacrifice is necessary to achieve happiness. Dickens does a beautiful job examining this theme on both a national and personal level. I mean, Carton's transformation into a man of moral worth is directly reliant on his sacrificing his former self. In his decision to die for his friends, Carton not only ensures their happiness but also ensures their spiritual rebirth…" Reid stopped when he realized the kid was looking quite lost. It was like he wasn't speaking English! Reid frowned for a minute before a realization began to form in his brilliant mind.

"You haven't read this book, have you?" But that didn't make sense! The kid was the one who started the conversation…that would mean…what did that mean? Reid pondered for a moment, trying to figure out what the kid's motives were. The only reason you'd start a conversation about something you didn't understand would be…_Was he trying to delay me? Maybe even distract me?_

The kid stuttered for a moment, probably trying to form a response in the positive without revealing himself, before quickly saying, "Uh, no." Just as abruptly, the kid turned around and walked away quickly. _He didn't go in the store…definitely a distraction, but why?_

Reid frowned before turning around, as somehow in the initial confusion he'd gotten turned around, and headed towards the end of the store. The parking lot was in the shape of an L, the SUV being just around the corner of the building. His mind was abuzz, so much so that he almost missed the man who said hello as he passed Reid before entering the store.

As he got into the car, Reid tried to focus back on the case. It just didn't make sense…he was so sure the UnSub was a police man! It was just too much of a coincidence! In his mind, he could see it all…accidentally overhearing about the affair...he had to be mentally unstable or at least delusional...and maybe he felt it was his civil duty as a policemen to put a stop to it…then getting the others through the database…it all fit!

_Well…_ Reid thought as he pulled out onto the empty road, _maybe he had access to the database once and was able to get in again, even if he was no longer on the force._

Could that be it? Was that why there was no common employees between the two? Maybe he got fired but had some type of training in computer systems so was still able to access the database to find more victims…

The red light at the top of a small hill put a stop to Reid's previous streak of hitting only green lights and offered the perfect opportunity for Reid to grab his phone. As much as he detested people driving while on their cell, he wanted to run this idea by someone quickly, while it was all still fresh in his mind.

He dialed Morgan and held it to his ear just as the light changed. It rang a couple times and Reid glanced at the clock, 8:20. Not _too_ late…

Reid pressed on the brake to slow the vehicle down as he got part way down the hill, but it didn't slow. In fact it got faster, gaining momentum as it went. Reid's heart began to race as he pressed down on the brake again and again, with increasing pressure, and the car still refused to respond. The rushing of blood in his ears blocked out the ringing of the phone.

Reid down shifted, but to no avail. Panic began to grip him tightly. Complete brake failure is an incredibly rare occurrence…the odds against it were…astronomical. It was just _so _unlikely, which meant..._Distraction, that kid was distracting me! _This was sabotage!

But Reid didn't have time to put any thought into this theory, as he realized the bottom of the hill wasn't straight.

It was curved. There was a curve at the bottom of the hill. He was dead. Surviving such an extreme crash…the chances weren't in his favor. Reid's mind whirred with statistics about brakes and car crashes while his adrenaline rushed through his body and his breathing speed up.

He was almost at the bottom…Reid took a quick breath before throwing on the emergency brake. The normal brakes used fluids to stop, which is why they were so much easier to sabotage, but the emergency brake used a different cable. It was a jerky stop normally because the rear wheels stopped so suddenly, but it would have to do.

There was a squeal and the car began to fishtail wildly just in time to reach the bottom of the hill and the start of the curve. Reid couldn't help but let out a small scream as the car slid off the road athe bend. In one jerk, the car swung over, rolling once then twice before finally coming to a stop.

By that point, Reid was long unconscious so he missed the click and following "hello?" as Morgan answered the phone.

TBC...

**As I said, please please REVIEW! It's so interesting to hear what you think is gonna happen and how you feel about things. I love hearing from you all, good or bad. **

**Next update: probably next week or the one after, but no longer than that!**


	6. Chapter 5

**Hey! This chapters a little short guys but it seemed like such a great place to stop. Also there's a VERY IMPORTANT QUESTION at the bottom that I would love if you would check out once you've read. **

**Thanks so much for the reviews/alerts/favs they mean so much to me!**

**Chapter 5**

Morgan stared at the oddly shaped crack on the ceiling of his hotel room. He couldn't get comfortable, the bed was hot and scratchy and his restless mind wouldn't slow down. The flashes of the changing TV screen illuminated his room in odd patterns.

It was early, true, but what else did he have to do besides watch TV and sleep? He could think about the case but…it was hard, sometimes, to facts straight and it almost seemed to get more and more confusing with only moments of lucidity. It was stressful, too stressful, without a team to bounce ideas around. No one could do this job alone, they'd surely lose their mind.

Reid wandered into his mind somehow. Morgan had seen Reid leaving and after a quick questioning of Hotch, soon knew he was going to get a book. Reading wasn't one of Morgan's favorite pass times, but it was good now and then, but not on a case. He didn't need even more information crammed in his mind, thank you very much. But the thought of leaving this tiny room to get some fresh air and spend some time with Reid didn't seem too bad. Would it be odd if he went over to Reid's room once the genius got back?

Sometimes, in the dark of night lying in his own bed staring at a ceiling not unlike the one currently before him, Morgan pondered their friendship. It was definitely something special, something he couldn't have possibly imagined way back at the start when the awkward young man, so young, had first wandered into the bullpen, saying he had a meeting with Gideon. They were both so different, but similar too. They were close, closer than coworkers anyway, but they had never really hung out outside of work. It just wasn't something that he'd imagine doing. Because outside of work they were different. Reid liked books and Star Trek and Morgan liked ladies and bars and the scenes just didn't match. Not even when Reid was slowly killing himself.

That one preyed on Morgan's mind often. Reid's slip and his own failure. He was surprised, to say the least, that the kid hadn't had a complete mental break down after Gideon left. Morgan hated the man for that. It was hard on them all, but none nearly as much as Reid. Innocent Reid who would always seem too young for the job, no matter how many birthdays he celebrated.

Morgan had always thought that no matter what awful things happen to you, you always come out stronger in the end. It was an ideology that had gotten him through life, through his dad's death, through Carl Buford, even through his first break up. But Reid had put that theory to the test with each and every time his life was endangered. Morgan had honestly and truly thought that Reid, the one he knew and cared for like a kid brother, was gone once he was finally back in their hands after Hankel. It scared him, scared him enough to be afraid to try and help. Because what if he tried only to realize that there really was no help that could be given that could ever right their lives again?

As if summoned by his thoughts, Morgan's phone lit up. Glad for the distraction, he reached over and plucked the device off the bedside table. Reid's name was on the screen and for a second Morgan wondered if the genius wasn't also a mind-reader. It rang another two or three times before Morgan realized he actually had to answer.

He opened the phone and pressed it to his ear. Morgan could have sworn he heard a crunch in the background, but if it was, it was over almost immediately.

"Hello?" Instead of Reid's voice, he got nothing. Morgan frowned slightly. "Reid? You there?" Of course he was there, Reid had called him not the other way around. So why wasn't he answering? Had he dialed by mistake? No, he couldn't see that happening. "Reid?" A faint worry began to niggle at him and Morgan sat up, turning on the light as he went. No longer illuminated solely by the TV screen, the room looked bigger, yet cold with the lamp on. "Reid," he said louder. Maybe he was talking to someone on the other end? He waited another minute or two before deciding that, for whatever reason, Reid was not going to answer. Morgan hung up, and turned to the TV, trying to think of a logical explanation. No good explanations came to mind.

Shaking only the tiniest bit, Morgan dialed Reid, who'd probably pick up and ask why Morgan hung up on him when he was just paying the cashier or something. But that didn't happen. Instead he got a busy signal. He only just got off the phone with Morgan, who else could he possibly need to call that fast? Unless…unless he never hung up on his end. Which means he either still doesn't know he dialed or can't answer. The image of Reid accidentally butt dialing someone seemed highly improbable.

Morgan hung up again and got out of bed. Better safe than sorry. Reid could be lying at the bottom of a ditch, bleeding out from a mugging gone wrong, cell phone hanging in limp hands. Or he could be tied in the back of a van while his phone lay by itself on the side of the street. Or maybe he never meant to call Morgan in the first place and was walking to his car chatting to someone about something.

Better safe than sorry. Reid would understand, he'd be a bit confused and maybe roll his eyes at Morgan's protectiveness, but he'd understand. After pulling on clothes, grabbing his wallet, keys, and phone, he left his room. As he passed Hotch's room, Morgan paused. Maybe Reid had been telling Hotch something…maybe he had a great revelation about the case and had immediately called the bossman. Couldn't hurt to check.

He knocked with only his knuckles, glancing down the hallway impatiently.

"Morgan?" Hotch asked, looking a little confused. His hair was slightly messy and his button up shirt was slightly disarrayed.

"Have you heard from Reid?" Hotch's eyebrows drew together quickly.

"A little while ago…he went to get some books or something."

"But you haven't heard from him since?"

"No, is something wrong?" To the untrained eye, Hotch would look as stoic as ever, but Morgan could see the tiniest bit of worry that crept into his eyes.

"I don't know, it's a long story. I'm just gonna run out and make sure everything's all right. I'm probably just overreacting."

Hotch nodded, while looking unconvinced, and Morgan turned to go down the hallway when Hotch's voice stopped him.

"Oh and Morgan? Be careful." It was both an order and an admittance of worry wrapped all in one.

"Yes sir."

Rain was falling, a step up from the drizzle it had been doing for the last two hours. Morgan sat behind the wheel, fingers drumming worriedly, as he waited at the red light. There was only one path to take to the bookstore, assuming Reid didn't waste time with all the little dinky back roads, so Morgan was fairly confident Reid wouldn't get past him.

Music drifted out of the radio but Morgan wasn't hearing it. It was much easier to give into the grips of paranoia and panic that had been brimming under the surface ever since Reid's call when he was alone in the car. What if something had happened? Reid was a strong kid – man – but there was only so much a person could take and God only know that Reid had been through some serious shit. And what if he was kidnapped again? What if he was being cruelly tortured right this very moment? Or worse, what if he was already lying dead somewhere? Morgan shivered and turned up the heat, which didn't really help.

It was faint and by all means any average driver probably would have missed it. But a worried friend on the lookout who just happened to be a profiler who no average driver. So Morgan did see the faint reflection of light that cut through the darkness for only a moment as he turned the corner at the bottom of Crest Hill. It wasn't much, no, but it was enough to warrant investigation. At the very least something was there that wasn't supposed to be. He pulled over on his side of the road, unbuckled and opening his door before he even stopped. Thanking Gideon for making it team policy, Morgan grabbed the ever-present flashlight out of the glove box.

The empty sounds of his feet on the asphalt rebounded through the night. His heart was starting to beat wildly. Curiosity and anxiety warred within him. Something…something about ten feet from the edge of the road…something shiny…something that had rolled or tipped down the little three foot embankment of the side of the road…

And then Morgan saw.

**TBC...**

**VERY IMPORTANT Q: **So for the next chapter, Morgan's going to call Hotch, obviously, and Hotch is going to call the rest of the team. Do you want to read all the convos, certain ones, or just Morgan and Hotch? This won't effect when it's posted, just so you know. Please please **REVIEW **and let me know!


	7. Chapter 6

**Please see the update at the end. Thanks for reading/alerting/reviewing/favoriting. It means so much to me!**

**Chapter 6**

**Unbeta'd so sorry for any errors.**

Hotch couldn't pretend there wasn't worry niggling around in his chest as he dully watched the TV screen. Even Rossi, sitting all the way across the room sipping rum while reading a book, had picked up that something was wrong.

As much as he wanted to make up excuses to convince himself Reid was fine, he knew that couldn't be. Morgan was worried and that worried Hotch. Morgan was sensible and not one prone to pointless fretting. Besides, something had to have started Morgan's worrying. Hotch suddenly wished he'd demanded details before letting Morgan go. This uncertainty was terrible. He hadn't even told Morgan to call him. Would Morgan think to do that if he found out that his worry was unfounded? Or would he only call if it was a bad thing? Now Hotch didn't even know if he wanted Morgan to call.

And when the phone rang almost five minute later, Hotch stared at it and only answered after the fourth ring.

"Hotchner."

"Hotch." The phone nearly fell from Hotch's hand when he heard the tremble in Morgan's voice.

"Morgan?"

"God, Hotch…it was a total wreck."

"You found Reid?"

"Yeah," Morgan said with a bitter laugh that sent chills down Hotch's spine. Across the dim room, he could see Rossi sitting up a little straighter, his dark eyes watching over the top of his book.

"Is he alright?"

"No," Morgan said, a faint tremble in his voice that no one but the team would have been able to detect.

"And?" Hotch asked when Morgan offered no more details. He suddenly became aware that he was clutching the phone quite tightly and it was starting to dig into his palm.

"I don't know how bad it is. I'm at the hospital right now. It was car crash…but, Hotch, I don't think…well I'm not sure, but I don't think it was an accident. Cops are investigating it right now, but…"

"I'll tell the rest of the team and we'll be there soon." Morgan agreed before quickly hanging up.

"Well?" Rossi asked.

"Car crash." Rossi's eyebrows rose. "And Morgan doesn't think it was an accident."

Rossi nodded as he stood up and slid on his shoes and jacket. A ball of nerves was bouncing around in Hotch. Once again he was frustrated to realize he should have asked for more details. He had no idea how bad it was or really what had happened. Car accident was pretty damn general.

Hotch raised a fist to knock on the door a few doors down the hall. He could hear laughing inside but it stopped immediately.

"Hotch," JJ said in surprise when she opened the door of the room her and Prentiss shared. Only Morgan and Reid had their own rooms and that was simply because the young genius kept incredibly odd hours and often read late into the night. When Garcia came along, she and Morgan shared a room – with the strict instructions to keep this professional from Hotch – but otherwise Morgan just took a room by himself.

Prentiss came up behind the blonde, her eyebrows drawn together. "Did something happen with the case?"

"Something happened with Reid," Hotch said, surprising even himself with his ability to sound calm and collected despite the worry bubbling away in his stomach.

Both girls' eyes went round. "What happened?" JJ asked quickly while sliding on her shoes.

"Car crash." He ignored JJ's gasp and continued on to say, "Morgan's at the hospital now. He suspects foul play."

"But who?"

"We'll worry about that later," Prentiss said, looking worried herself, "let's just get going."

* * *

><p>Morgan ran a hand across his head, his impatience growing. It'd been nearly half an hour. The rest of the group would probably be there any minute.<p>

He could still the image perfectly in his mind. The car was right side up, but it had clearly rolled at least once. Blood had been running sluggishly down the side of Reid' face, which was already coated in blood. An obvious cut stood out on his neck as well but it wasn't too bad. It was the way his wrist was quickly turning purple and how he immediately reached for it when he became concious that scared him.

Reid had awoken, but not for long, and had been relatively lucid. He'd been surprised to see Morgan there, but accepted the explanation of the cell phone call. He said only a few words, a thanks here and a I'll be fine there, but it was the final thing he'd said that scared Morgan stiff.

"Morgan, the UnSub, he's…he's…" Reid had blinked rapidly chocolate eyes disappearing in and out of sight. Raising his right arm to rest against his head, Reid had swayed slightly then hissed in pain. "The UnSub…" Reid had started again before his eyes rolled back and his head dropped sideways onto his shoulder.

Despite his best efforts, Morgan couldn't figure out Reid had been trying to tell him. There simply weren't enough clues. The UnSub was…what? Female? An employee? There at the car? Getting away? There were so many phrases that could complete that statement and Morgan didn't know which was right. It was important, Reid had used his last conscious moment to try to tell him. Morgan tried to keep the thought of it being Reid's last breath. Because it wasn't, his buddy was gonna be just fine.

He sure as hell hoped so.

"Morgan." Hotch's authoritative voice rang across the waiting room. Morgan's tired eyes looked up to see the whole team, sans Garcia and Reid of course, standing there.

Hotch and Rossi were both wearing dress shirts while their usual trousers, but neither had on a tie or jacket. JJ and Prentiss looked even less put together. Prentiss had on jeans and a mildly baggy t-shirt while JJ had on yoga pants and a plain yellow t-shirt.

"What happened?" "How bad is he?" "You think it was intentional?" The questions fired at him like bullets but Morgan just held up a hand and silence fell.

"Sit and I'll explain." The team sat down, two on each side, and looked at Morgan expectantly – except for Rossi who, despite the worry in his eyes, was leaning casually up against the wall.

"I don't really know for sure what happened. I got a call on my cell from Reid but when I answered, he didn't respond. So I thought something was wrong. I knew where he was going at least so I went out and found the car on the side of the road, clearly rolled once or twice. Reid was hurt, but it didn't look too bad, not life or death. He was breathing kinda funny and there was something wrong with his arm not to mention his head was bleeding like crazy, but-"

"Head wounds always bleed a lot," Hotch finished with a nod.

"Yeah. I think it was foul play because for starters the emergency brake was on, Reid would only do that if he knew the other brakes weren't gonna stop him. There was a strange smell in the air too, kinda faint, but depending on how far he got before having to use his brakes…I didn't get a chance to look, but I told the police guys who came so they're checking it out, said they'd get back to me by tomorrow afternoon."

A silence fell over the group as they all waited impatiently. Morgan got up and began to pace across the hallway and Hotch drummed his fingers along his thigh.

"Spencer Reid?" The doctor's eyes widened as all five members got up and rushed towards him.

"Family only," he said rather nervously.

"I'm SSA Aaron Hotchner with the FBI. I will tell them anything you say the second you leave so you might as well just spit it out." The doctor's small eyes flicked down the FBI badge only a foot away from his face. Then nodded.

"Alright, well…Mr. Reid,"

"Doctor."

"Right, Dr. Reid managed to get away relatively unharmed considering how bad the crash could have been." Everyone sagged slightly in relief. "He sustained a sprained wrist and a few bruised rips as well as some superficial cuts and bruises. He took a pretty good whack to the head as well, but nothing too serious. There might be some temporary memory loss and dizziness as well as some mild headaches. All in all, he's a very lucky man."

"When can we see him?" Morgan asked.

"As soon as you like. I'm just going to get him a prescription for some light pain relievers for his ribs then he's free to go. I'll have a nurse take you back to see him." Hotch nodded thanks for the whole group then followed the nurse that came over to show the way.

The room was small, just a basic examination room when the usual padded table, and it was a tight fit for all five people to cram into the room. Reid was sitting on the exam table gently swinging his long legs back and forth like a little kid. There was a bandage on his wrist and he was obviously favoring his stomach, but he didn't look too bad, like he'd just gotten in a scuffle or something. The purple bruise on his forehead, partially hidden by floppy brown hair, made Morgan wince.

"How are you?" Hotch asked formally.

"Fine I guess," Reid shrugged.

"What happened?

A spasm of panic crossed Reid's face. "Reid?" JJ asked concernedly.

"I-I don't really remember," he said quietly, a faint red creeping up in his cheeks. JJ smiled a little before pulling Reid into a one armed hug.

"The doctor said you might have temporary amnesia for a day or two. It's perfectly normal," Hotch supplied. At first Reid looked reassured before a shadow of doubt crossed his face.

"I feel like I figured out something really important right before the accident…"

Hotch and Morgan shared a look before Morgan stepped forward. "Kid, we don't think it was an accident. I'm pretty sure it was intentional." Morgan decided to keep Reid's little moment before he lost conciousness to himself for now. Reid had looked scared enough when he realized he didn't remember the first few times. Morgan had no need to repeat any of that.

"Oh, I know," Reid said dismissively as continued to dig around in his mind for his revelation.

"You-you know?" Morgan asked, eyes wide in surprise.

"Of course, Morgan, do you know how rare complete brake failure like that is? The odds are astronomical."

"Oh astronomical are they?" Morgan grinned.

"Yes, yes they are," Reid said, not noticing the many grins. "There was a guy," Reid said with a frown.

"A guy?" Hotch asked, all business once again.

"Yeah, at the…" Reid racked his brain to clarify the hazy image in his head. "At the bookstore! Outside. There was something about him that me think he was distracting me."

"Distracting you while whoever the other person was sabotaged your breaks maybe," Prentiss wondered aloud.

"The UnSub?" Rossi offered.

"I didn't take very long…" Reid said, still frowning.

"What?" JJ asked.

"In the bookstore, I only took a few minutes because I pretty much already knew what I wanted – A Tale of Two Cities, a wonderful perspective on the possibility of resurrection-"

"Reid."

"Right, sorry. As I was saying, I wasn't that long in the book store, maybe the UnSub – or whoever was working on my breaks – didn't have enough time and either asked the partner or some person nearby to distract me."

"What did he look like?" Reid's eyes widened again. "It's okay if you don't remember right now," Prentiss added quickly.

There was a knock on the door and the doctor entered.

"Alright, here is your prescription, you can get it filled out at the pharmacy downstairs. I suggest you take it easy for a few days. As long as you don't do anything too strenuous for your ribs, you should be almost back to normal in a week or so." Reid nodded and took the piece of paper from the doctor's extended hand.

"Alright, let's go back to the hotel tonight and tomorrow we'll go to the police department to pick up where we left off. Reid I want you to stay at the hotel and rest."

"What?" Reid demanded, sitting up quickly then wincing in pain at his ribs. "I'm going back to the department with you tomorrow."

"You most certainly are not, you're supposed to be taking it easy," Hotch said sternly.

"Sitting at a police department desk isn't exactly strenuous, Hotch. Besides, sitting at the hotel I'll just think about the case anyway. Might as well use my time productively."

Hotch sighed and rubbed his temples, already knowing he was beat.

"Fine," he breathed, the teeniest of smiles pulling at the edge of lips.

Reid grinned.

**TBC..**

* * *

><p><strong>UPDATE (74)**

Hey everybody!

So first off, I'm not giving this story up. I know it's been a while since I've updated, but life has been pretty busy and I've been working on my own personal writing.

However, I've somewhat lost my direction with this story. I started with one end game, changed it, and changed it again. Now there are a few things that don't line up and I don't like the direction this is going in anyway. You might have realized the last chapters have all been stalling when really the car crash and reactions were only supposed to take one or two chapters.

So what I'm going to do, is take this puppy down for now and rework. Start at the beginning and rework what's there, delete some, add some, you get the point.

In probably **about a month**, I'm going to **start reposting**. I'll stick a notice here and on my profile when that happens for those who don't have me on Author Alert.

I'm sorry to anyone who was really into this guy and thank my readers and reviewers so much for sticking with me this far, hopefully you guys can go just a little further. I **PROMISE **it'll go back up eventually, just be patient.

Also, if you have any comments, questions, or suggestions, feel free to shoot me a PM. I don't bite, I promise :)

Thanks and sorry again. Hope you're all having a good summer (or whatever season it is wherever you live!)

Fuzz


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